Feeling like I am surrounded by death by attending so many funerals this year, Sherman and I talked yesterday about what he wants for his funeral. He kept saying that he is 85-years old and could go at any minute. I told him not yet and quit being in such a big hurry. He plans to be cremated and buried in the same grave as his wife.
He wants no services.
He says he doesn’t want a lot of people talking about him and saying what a great guy he was. No, he was not interested in any of it at all.
I asked him if I could be at the graveside. He said only if I promised not to say all the normal sappy stuff people say at funerals. I promised that I would tell everyone he was a pain. He said, okay. I was invited.
In our society, people are so uncomfortable talking about death, funerals, and dying. It is rather strange that it has become such an easy conversation for me to have with others.
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